Soon, she would go to a dinner and hug her friends and laugh too hard and eat something that felt like art. A pot of mussels in saffron and lemon broth for everyone to share. She promised herself that every time she and Stephen got together to drink and watch movies and talk, she would remind herself it was a blessing to be alive at the same time as him. She would commit over and over to enduring the strain, the breakdown, and the growth of loving again and again. Ayanna told herself that every time she would come home to the sound of Felix listening to music and chopping vegetables, she would thank herself for being alive for so long. This is a gift, Ayanna. Don’t act like it’s not. Love life. When she met Jane’s child, she would hold on to the delight of seeing her best friend’s big, beautiful, mean eyes on that infant’s wrinkled face. They would talk for hours over the baby’s head, over the child’s head, and with the baby when it was old enough. Her family was getting another member. She was loved. Each conversation would be its own kind of offering. Ayanna would endure, even when it was painful. It was the only path she wanted to know, and Ayanna vowed to walk it the rest of her life. Ayanna finally knew: love, with all its intertwined loss, was her penance.

Acknowledgments

First, if any of the mental health issues Ayanna experiences in the book resonate with you (from anxiety to depression to PTSD), I want to make you aware of some resources. In the United States, you can call the National Suicide Lifeline by dialing 988. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting the word, “start,” to 741-741. Even if you’re not in crisis, but something resonated with you, your mental health is important. Therapy can be hard and awkward—lol, trust me, I know—but it might be the step you need. There are even places that will give you free therapy services, such as Walk In (in the Twin Cities), either in-person or virtually.

Second, some notes about the book. The painting the courage to venture to the edge of reason is a real painting by Caroline Kent. I do not own it, but I love it. If the Lucille Clifton reference caught your eye, yes, I was hoping you might consider reading her novels Two-Headed Woman or Generations. I also read Familiar Spirits by Alison Lurie, listened to Ghost Church hosted by Jamie Loftus, and watched video of/looked at archived artists books and several paintings by Agatha Wojciechowsky (and the spirits). There were several other texts read and considered, including folk tales from the US and scholarly research on ghost figures in Black literature. Tarot cards, Ouija boards, and one Uber driver in New Orleans who claimed to be psychic were consulted.